Not the Usual Game
by Kuma
Summary: Buffy leads a normal life....as a FBI agent.
1. New Partner

Not the Usual Game  
  
by Kuma  
  
Disclaimer I don't own the characters, Joss does. Even though I don't even get to watch Buffy OR Angel b/c my stupid cable network took them off...and have no intentions of returning them (I asked so myself!). I own Carter, Emily McClain, and any others who you fail to recognize. Any resemblances to a real person(s) is purely coincidental.  
  
Summery Buffy leads a normal life...as a FBI agent.  
  
Author's note This story just won't get out of my head ^_^ so I just have to write it. R/R please!  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
"Hey, Chief," a vibrant young blonde called out as she walked towards him. Despite that it was six in the morning, she was up and alert as usual.  
  
"Have you got a moment?" the dark skinned man asked. He placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her from passing him. He waited until he received a nod and opened the door to his office. Once they stepped inside, he shut the door behind them. He held up a hand and motioned it towards the seat across from his desk. Once she sat, he plopped down in his leather one.  
  
A smile played on her pale pink lips. She flung her hair over her shoulder. "I suppose you didn't invite me in for a cup of coffee."  
  
"No, I didn't," he replied. "Would you?" Carter offered.  
  
Shaking her head, she placed her hands on her lap. "No."   
  
He placed both of his hands on the edge of his desk in front of him. "You and I both know that you're the best agent that we have had in over twenty year. You're good in almost every position we have. Hell, everyone knows that now."   
  
A smile played on her lips. He always began out that way whenever he needed a favor. He did during Christmas when he asked her to host the New Year's party for all of the FBI.  
  
"I've decided to pair you up." He held up a hand when he saw her open her mouth. "Just listen to me for a second. His name is Angel O'Roake. This guy's coming from the LAPD. He's the best cop they've got and he's got a degree in psychology. He decided to try going for us and I just couldn't turn down what he had on his records. He's passed the examination and test with excellent scores-"  
  
"You're giving me a rookie?" she questioned. When she saw the set look on his face, she said, "Carter, you know I work alone."  
  
He placed his hands behind his head. "It would be better if he learned from the best fresh off. Besides, you need to move on. It wasn't your fault, Buffy."  
  
  
  
  
Buffy knew that once she walked into her office, it wouldn't be hers. Carter had explained to her yesterday that an extra desk would be moved in after she left work. She walked down the familiar hallway to her office. She passed Carter's office and the break room. At the end of the hall was her spacious office on the right. Or it used to be spacious. 'Angel. What kind of name is that anyway?' she thought to herself.  
  
She stopped at the door of her office and peered in. She wanted to see if he was here yet. She held her coffee with both hands as she looked in. Her large wooden desk was on the right. A couple of shelves and a filing cabinet adorned the wall. A new smaller desk was placed on the right. A tall dark haired man picked out and placed various things on the desk.  
  
"Good morning," Buffy said as she walked in. She set her coffee down on her desk and turned to him. "I'm special agent Summers." She stuck out her right hand.  
  
Angel smiled. He took a quick glance at her appearance. A dark green skirt cut just above the knees, a white blouse, and a matching dark green blazer. She didn't look bad at all, he decided. Her hair was a lighter shade of blonde and it accented her hazel green eyes. He took her hand before she'd realized that he'd been staring at her. "Agent O'Roake. Pleased to meet you, mam." He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back.  
  
Buffy took back her hand. "First of all, this isn't meet and greet the parents. You will address me by Agent Summers, not mam." She walked over to her desk. "Secondly, this is not the 17th century. We shake hands now." If he was trying to win her over, he would just have to think again. She hated people that kissed up to her. She sat down at her desk.  
  
"I'm sorry, *Agent Summers*," he stressed her name. He was starting to think this lady had more than just a little attitude problem. "It won't happen again." He turned back to unpacking his things. 'What great first impressions' he thought to himself. 'You try to be nice and they lady wants your head.'  
  
Buffy glanced up at him. His back was toward her. He was wearing black trousers and a simple white dress shirt. His black jacket hung over his chair. When she walked in, she noticed he was wearing a dark red tie. She betted anything that the tie was a clip on. 'The man probably couldn't even tie his own.'  
  
She took in his features. He looked about twenty-eight. Average height, average weight. Black spiked hair and dark brown eyes. 'He does look okay' she thought to herself. She wouldn't allow herself to think anymore about her partner. Buffy looked down at her paper work. She had just recently closed a case, or as closed as one could get.  
  
Angel smiled. He saw her glance at him, studying him. He continued to unpack his belongings. He picked up a picture in a smooth silver frame out of the box. It was one of him and Jackie, his partner at the LAPD. He wiped the glass lightly and placed the picture on the right hand side of his desk. Angel finished unpacking his belongings and place the last item, his name plate, in the center front of his desk.  
  
Buffy finished looking over the papers. Her latest case. Trying to find evidence of a man who had killed thirteen people in a sickening ritual and left an almost traceless trail. Almost. Along with the Special Investigations unit, they had gathered enough information to put the suspected murderer to trial. They convicted him with thirteen counts of murder and seven accounts of kidnapping.  
  
"Latest case?" Angel asked, standing over her desk.  
  
She looked up. She hadn't noticed he finished unpacking nor that he was standing over her desk. She shook her head to clear it. "Yeah."  
  
"Do you mind?" He asked motioning towards the stack of papers she held.  
  
She handed them to him. "No." She watched as his flipped through the papers, studying some just long enough to grasp the general idea of the case. Once his was finished, he handed them back to her.  
  
"Nice work. Finding human oil smears on plastic and linking it to his own."  
  
She put the papers into a folder and stood up. "Thanks," she replied. She walked over to her filing cabinet and pulled out one of the drawers. She flipped through the various alphabetized cases and put it under D for Davison. She shut the drawer.  
  
"I've got a new case for you, Buffy." Carter said as he walked in the door. He tossed her a yellow envelope.  
  
Angel looked over Buffy's shoulder as she opened the envelope and pulled out the contents. They were greeted with a picture of a young girl. She looked about fourteen, dark brown hair, green eyes, and a small scar on her neck.   
  
Carter leaned against the door frame. "Her name's Emily McClain. She was kidnapped from Houston several weeks ago. The Houston police have all their leads pointing here."  
  
She looked up at Carter from the papers. "Evidence?"  
  
He shook his head. "None."  
  
"Who's their leads and how are they pointing here?" Angel questioned, reading the police report.  
  
"The kidnapper's room mate, Chris, recalled a discussion that they had, what he assumed was jokingly. He told Chris that if he would ever kidnap anyone, he would have the perfect plan. He said he owned property here, some five acres. Problem is that the name his room mate gave us is fake."  
  
Buffy leaned against her desk while Angel looked through the papers. "Photos?"  
  
"Doesn't have any. He claims the guy didn't like to take pictures."  
  
She rubbed the back of her neck. "Do they have the location where it happened?" she asked.  
  
"Yes, but heavy rains threaten to fall and wash away any evidence that has yet to be discovered."  
  
Angel put the papers back in the envelope and set them on her desk.  
  
"I want to go," she said. She glanced at Angel, then at Carter. "I want to see what I can find."  
  
"Okay," Carter nodded. "We'll get you there tonight. There isn't much you can do until morning, but you'll only have a day, two at the max before they get some serious weather."  



	2. Dark Night

Not the Usual Game  
  
by Kuma  
  
Disclaimer I don't own the characters, Joss does. Even though I don't even get to watch Buffy OR Angel b/c my stupid cable network took them off...and have no intentions of returning them (I asked so myself!). I own Carter, Emily McClain, and any others who you fail to recognize. Any resemblances to a real person(s) is purely coincidental.  
  
Summery Buffy leads a normal life...as a FBI agent.  
  
Author's note This story just won't get out of my head ^_^ so I just have to write it. R/R please!  
  
  
  
  
  
Their plane ride to Houston was short. When they got there, they decided to check in a hotel room near the crime scene.  
  
Buffy slipped the driver a twenty and they both got out of the cab. "Let me get the for you," Angel offered, picking up her bag.  
  
"Thanks," she replied. She walked into the hotel entrance, holding the door open for him. As she approached, two clerks smiled.  
  
"Welcome to the Dreams Hotel. My name's Linda. How may I help you?" The woman clerk greeted warmly.  
  
Buffy leaned on the counter. "Yes, I'd like two rooms, please." She slid a credit card out of her pocket and gave it to the Linda, clerk. Buffy thanked the clerk after she received her credit card back and the room keys.  
  
Buffy started off towards the elevator and look behind her to see if he was following.  
  
Angel knew that Buffy hadn't really offered her own credit card for the hotel rooms. They would be courtesy of the FBI. But the look on Linda's face told him he was a jerk for not paying for them.   
  
He picked up the bags and saw her look back to see if he was following her. He smiled after she had returned her gaze back to the elevator. He was following her alright. He looked down at her tightly jean covered legs. His eyes then travel upward to her ass. 'She doesn't have a bad one at that.' He admitted. 'Stop thinking about your partner that way.' He tried to stop himself from thinking about her. 'She looked really sexy in that outfit she was wearing earlier, you have to admit. And she's very beautiful. All the blonde hair that you want to loose yourself in and those eyes. Oh, those eyes. The ones that shows so much about her, even though she doesn't show it on the outside.' A little voice kept whispering to him over and over.  
  
"O'Roake!" Buffy called out. "This elevator isn't going to wait forever." She was annoyed. Why the hell was he walking so slow? He couldn't possibly be tired already.  
  
He realized that his pace has slowed down almost to a halt. He quickened his pace and rushed into the elevator before she would leave him.  
  
  
  
  
Buffy woke. The pale moonlight slipped through the window. She thought she had heard something. She closed her disorientated eyes and listened. She heard her heavy breathing, but nothing else. She opened her eyes. Her mind was just playing tricks. Deciding to get a drink of water, she sat up.  
  
There. She heard it again. She was sure it wasn't her mind. Reaching under her pillow, she grabbed her .45 acp. Quietly as she could, she disengaged the safety feature.  
  
"Go ahead. Scream for her," she heard a muffled voice say. "You do and she's dead. Well, she will be anyway after I kill you."  
  
Buffy stood up and pad her way over to the bedroom door. It was cracked and she was now thankful that she never fully shut her door. She peered out and saw the side profile of her partner with a gun pointed to his head. The gunman was wearing a ski mask from what she could tell.  
  
"Don't kill her," he ordered rather than pleaded. "She has nothing to do with this. I'm the one you're mad at, not her."  
  
The gunman laughed softly. "What makes you think-"  
  
"Put the gun down!" Buffy shouted. Her aim was fixed on the gunman's head.  
  
The gunman was surprised, but didn't loose his focus. "I see the little lady here has waken."  
  
"Shoot him," her partner now pleaded to her.  
  
"Drop the gun and I'll promise not to kill you." He replied swiftly.  
  
He looked at Buffy with pleading eyes. "Shoot him." He ordered her.  
  
Buffy didn't think twice. Her had was already wrapped around the cool metal; finger ready poised on the trigger. All it took was one little finger and the gun fired. She fired her gun twice. In the milliseconds it took the first bullet to reach the gunman, she heard him shoot. She watched as both her partner and his murderer collapse onto the hardwood floor.  
  
Buffy rushed over to her partner, still ready to fire again if the two bullets didn't kill him. She saw a puddle of blood form around the gunman's head and knew he was dead. Kneeling down beside her partner, she scooped his head into her lap.  
  
She grabbed his wrist and felt a faint heart beat. Her eyes lit up. She had heard of this before; people surviving through multiple stabs or blows to the head. Perhaps his wasn't his time to go.  
  
'Perhaps I wished too hard,' she thought to herself as she felt her partner's heart beat fade into nothing. She couldn't help the tears that fell from her eyes nor the sob that caught in her throat.  
  
And there, in the lonely dark night, she cried.  
  
  
  
  
  
Buffy awoke with a jerk. Her eyes flew open. She was bathed in her own sweat, the sheets covering her were soaked. Another bad dream. 'Nightmare's is a more fitting word.' She'd often have the same reoccurring nightmare of what happened. Her partner, Jason, was allowing her to stay with him until she could find a new place to relocate. He had allowed her to sleep in his bed while he took the couch. She would wake up only to have her partner and her best friend shot and die and her arms.  
  
She wiped the sweat off her neck and her forehead. Her skin was already drying from the cool air and getting sticky. She glanced over at the illuminated clock. It was almost five in the morning. Grabbing her bag and her holster, she headed to the bathroom.  



End file.
